


When Helen met Janet

by meletes_muse



Category: Sanctuary (TV), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s02e21 1969, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meletes_muse/pseuds/meletes_muse
Summary: The first time Helen saw Dr Janet Fraiser, she was stunned. Quite literally.





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't own Sanctuary or Stargate.

The first time Helen saw Dr Janet Fraiser, she was stunned. Quite literally. As she watched the red beam of light streak towards her, she silently cursed the “shoot first, ask questions later” attitude that was so prevalent in the military. _Oh,_ _bloody hell._

Then everything went black.

 

When Dr Helen Magnus woke up, Janet thought to herself, she was going to have one hell of a headache. Hammond had blown a gasket when he’d found out that the marine on duty in the infirmary had shot one of his oldest friends. The man had been lucky to escape permanent reassignment to a desk job.

Janet was curious. Hammond had made it sound like he and the doctor went way back. Yet the woman lying in her infirmary couldn’t be much older than she was. She also looked a heck of lot like Sam. Were it not for the color and length of Helen’s hair, Janet might have confused the two women. In fact, her resemblance to Sam had been the reason she'd been shot in the first place.

Since the recent attempted takeover of the base by a nasty _Goa’uld_ named Hathor, the marines had been a little over zealous in their use of stunners. Dr Magnus was the spitting image of Sam, who, as it turned out, had left on an off-world reconnaissance mission just before the doctor’s arrival. Putting two and two together and making five, the marines had mistaken Dr Magnus for an imposter, and stunned her on the spot. Janet sighed. _If only they'd been that trigger happy when Hathor was on the rampage._

Janet studied her patient with more than clinical interest. She clearly wasn’t military – her elegant business suit told Janet that much. But her body was toned, in fact, she was in perfect health. Or as damn near perfect health as was humanly possible. She obviously maintained a very active lifestyle, perhaps an undercover agent of some kind. 

Just then, Helen’s eyes snapped open. She attempted to sit upright, but winced in pain. “ _Bloody marines_ ,” she murmured. 

“Dr Magnus?” Janet said, “Here, let me help you into a more comfortable position.”

“Thank you, Doctor...?”

“Frasier,” Janet said, helping the woman to sit up, and offering her a sip of cool water. “Janet Fraiser. I’m afraid you had an unfortunate run in with one of our marines.”

“It would seem so,” Helen replied, giving her a strained smile, “that’s what I get for working with the military, I suppose.”

Janet bristled at the Doctor’s comment. Everyone was a damned critic, but they had no idea of the risks people on this base took everyday to keep the world safe.

“I’ve offended you?” Helen asked, shifting to get more comfortable.

Janet hesitated, “Dr Magnus," she said carefully, "what you have to understand is that the people on this base risk their lives everyday. Our work is top secret – it has to be – but that means that we get very little recognition. And when we do get attention, it’s usually because something has gone wrong.”

Helen Magnus sighed, and gratefully took another sip of water, “Please don’t misunderstand me, Doctor. I have nothing but the utmost respect for what your people do here.” She shook her head. “But I simply cannot ignore the fact that the Air Force is an archaic, patriarchal institution, run by a load of all misogynistic windbags who –”

Janet silently cursed herself for rising to Dr Magnus' insult. The woman had only just woken up and she was already up to ninety. But the doctor’s tirade was cut off when Hammond entered the infirmary. Janet gasped. _Uh, oh_ , she thought, wondering just how much the General had heard.

“Helen Magnus,” he boomed, jovially, “You wouldn’t be corrupting my officers with all that liberal nonsense of yours, would you?”

Helen smiled, fondly, “You know me too well, George,” leaning forward so that the general could kiss her on both cheeks.

 _George?_ That was a surprise.

“Well, rest assured,” Hammond continued, “that oaf who shot you will be working the graveyard shift until I decide otherwise!”

Helen gave Janet a considering look, and softened, “Don’t be too hard on him, George. I suspect it must have been quite a shock seeing someone who, to all intents and purposes, is identical to Samantha.”

Only years of Air Force training kept Janet from openly gaping.

“Speaking of whom,” Helen continued, “where is my wonderful niece?”

Well, this woman was certainly full of surprises. _How on earth could she be old enough to be Sam’s aunt?_

“On a mission,” the General replied. “But she sends her love. She should be back on time to see you before you fly back to Old City at the weekend.”

Helen smiled, “thank you, George.”

Hammond chuckled. “No, thank you. I hear you helped Captain Carter with the _Goa’uld_ hand device?”

 _So_ this _was xenobiologist Sam had mentioned._

“Oh, it was nothing,” Helen waved her hand dismissively. “Samantha did most of the work. She really is quite brilliant.”

George nodded, “That she is.” He turned to Janet, “Dr Fraiser, how long before Dr Magnus can be up and about?”

“Well, Sir, I’d recommend that Dr Magnus spend the rest of the day here. We’ll run some tests and –”

“There’s no need to go to any trouble,” Magnus interjected, “I really am quite recovered.” But when she moved to swing her legs off the edge of the bed, she winced, putting her hand to her head and swaying a little.

“As I thought,” Janet scolded lightly, helping Helen to lie back down, “you’re concussed. You did hit your head quite badly on the way down.”

Helen sighed, and pouted in a very Sam Carter like way. “I’m a Doctor,” she began, “I’ll just lie here for an hour or so and – ”

“Dr Magnus,” Janet cut her off, “you may be a Doctor, but you’re _my_ patient, and I decide when you’re ready to leave.”

“And, Helen,” Hammond interjected, “this is my base, and I won’t let you do a shred of work until Dr Fraiser tells me you’re on the mend.”

Helen huffed and fixed them both with a glare. Janet suspected it was rare that anyone told Helen Magnus what to do, rarer still that she actually listened. There was clearly far more to her relationship with the General than met the eye. They seemed genuinely fond of one another. And Helen obviously knew when she was outnumbered, “Alright,” she acquiesed, “but I warn you, I’m a terrible patient.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Janet said with a twinkle in her eye, “you’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

 _Well_ , she thought, _this is certainly going to be an interesting few days._


	2. Hangin' on the red telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General George Hammond sat at his desk, waiting for the red telephone to ring. It would ring, of that he had no doubt. When Helen Magnus was around, things tended to get interesting. 
> 
> George Hammond remembers the first time he met Helen Magnus. 
> 
> Helen/George friendship
> 
> Episode tag for Stargate SG-1 s02e02 1969.

General George Hammond sat at his desk, waiting for the red telephone to ring. It would ring, of that he had no doubt. When Helen Magnus was around, things tended to get interesting. As commander of the world’s most secret military base, George was no stranger to the weird and wonderful. Heck, since he’d taken up his command he’d met more than a few aliens. But Helen brought her own particular brand of strange, usually tangled up in some complicated political web. And George hated politics.

As if on cue, the red light on the phone began to blink, signalling an incoming calling. Sighing he reached for the receiver.

“Hello, Mr President...”

 

**Almost 30 years previously…**

 

Ever since George had helped the men – and woman, he reminded himself – from the future, the world had seemed strange.  Maybe strange was the wrong word. Nothing had changed, exactly – at least, he didn’t _think_ it had. But he’d started to notice some things that just didn’t add up.

At first, it was nothing to write home about. A waitress at the local diner with eyes that seemed to glow – and then didn’t. _Must’ve been a trick of the light_ , he told himself. But the image stayed with him for several days.

Two weeks later, he could have sworn he saw a man with large, black wings _flying_ across the evening sky. But he couldn’t have. It just wasn’t possible.

 _Neither is time travel_ , said a niggling voice in his head.

George dismissed the incidents. Though he would never have admitted it, he was probably more strung up about the ‘visitors’ (as he’d dubbed the men – and woman – he'd risked court martial for) than he’d realised. Had they really been who they’d said they were? Or was it that nasty knock on the head? After all, he’d been out cold when a search team had found his transport at the side of the road, several hours after they’d lost contact with command.

He’d seen more than a few good men go mad. He knew the signs. So he used up the last of his leave and got on the first bus out of town. Lieutenant George Hammond was going to get his head straight. And he would. _General_ George Hammond sounded mighty fine. He wasn’t going to pass _that_ up. No sir, he was not.

But just when thought he’d put all the strangeness behind him, he saw someone he couldn’t ignore. When he first glimpsed her across the bar, he thought it was _her_ , the captain from the future. Yet as she turned her head to speak to her companion, he realised his mistake. This woman was older, though still not very old, and her hair was brown, styled in a fashionable ‘bob’, just like his sister, Jeannie’s.

She was with a man and they spoke in hushed tones. But something wasn’t right. It probably wouldn’t have been obvious to an untrained eye, but they were on edge. Although they maintained a steady stream of conversation, they weren’t looking at each other. The woman’s eyes were fixed on the main entrance to the bar, while the man kept watch on the back door. They were waiting for someone.

George knew he should leave, but curiosity got the better of him. He ordered another beer and some salted peanuts. And then he waited. He waited until last orders, two beers’ later.

But still, nothing.

He’d been sure there was something hooky going on. Maybe he hadn’t put the events of last year behind him, after all.

Then, just as he was pulling his jacket on to leave, he saw them. Two greying men strode into the bar as though they owned the place. The brunette stiffened, laying a light hand on her companion’s arm. Her other hand strayed slowly towards her yellow leather handbag.

George felt his own body tense as his fighting instincts kicked in. And when the brunette followed one of the men in the direction of the restroom, he followed. Surely she wasn’t going after him on her own?

He stopped short as he reached the open door. A heated conversation was taking place inside.

“Where have you hidden them, Mr Peterson?”

She sounded impatient, angry. Her accent was English, unexpected.

The man laughed. “Now why would I tell you that, sweet cheeks?”

He took a threatening step towards her, reaching for his jacket pocket. Something wasn’t right. Did he have a gun? What was this woman thinking?

George’s instincts kicked in and he barrelled into the room, knocking the man to the floor.

“Aargh!” the man grunted, as George pinned him face down, “What the hell?!”

George’s knee rested on the small of the man’s back as he struggled beneath him.

“This man bothering you, ma’am?” he ground out.

The brunette flashed him an angry look. It was the look his mother gave him sometimes, when he’d done something particularly idiotic. And George started to get an even worse feeling about all this. _You’ll understand when you’re older_ , echoed in his ears. He swallowed, still breathing hard.

The woman gave a frustrated sigh, as though this was a regular occurrence, and dropped to her knees to tie the struggling man’s hands with her scarf.

“The situation was under control”

The man on the floor grunted, “Get off me, you son of a bitch!”

The woman sighed again, throwing George a long-suffering look, “And now we’ll have to sedate him.”

She reached into her handbag to extract a small syringe.

  _Jesus Lord, what had he got himself into_ , “Eh, Ma’am?” he said, “I don’t think that that’s-“

But before he could finish, she injected something into the man’s neck. George felt him go still beneath him.

“Now,” the brunette stood up, crossing her arms over her chest, “who are you and why are you interfering with my operation?”

George was getting to his feet, opening his mouth to answer, when all of a sudden he felt a man’s weight slam into his side. Surely the man hadn’t recovered so soon? George cried out as his head hit the floor with a crack.

“You son of bitch!” the man shouted, as he hit him, first with his right fist, then with his left.

A pair of arms caught his assailant around the neck, and dragged him off. George struggled to sit up. His head ached and his face throbbed painfully. His assailant was on his knees on the floor and the woman had him in chokehold. The room moved in and out of focus as he tried to stand.

Just as George got unsteadily to his feet, the man sprung from his position on the floor, throwing the woman backwards. She collided painfully with the wall, sliding down to the floor. The man stalked over to her, lifting her to her feet like a ragdoll, before pinning her against the wall, one hand tight around her neck. The woman’s hands flew up to her neck, frantically trying to pry him off. But the man seemed to be inhumanly strong.

George swayed as the room moved around him.  _Think, George_ , he told himself. There was no way he could overpower the man on his own. Then, remembering the brass door stop he’d seen on the way in, he staggered towards the entrance, grunting as he picked up the heavy object with both hands. He stumbled back towards the man, lifting the brass weight high above his head. He brought it down, hard, on the man’s skull. The man made no more noise, but crumpled to the floor.

The woman gasped for breath, massaging her neck. She looked at George, and said something. But he couldn't seem to make out the words.

Then everything went black.

 

George awoke to the sound of beeping monitors. Slowly, he took in his surroundings. He was in a hospital of some kind. Someone moved at the foot of his bed. A doctor was was reading his chart.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” she moved to the side of the bed and smiled down at him. He recognized that voice. The accent was English, familiar.

He could feel his vision blurring.  

“What’s your name,” the voice asked, gently.

“Lieutenant George Hammond, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” her voice sounded a long way off, “you were very brave, if a little foolhardy.”

George could feel himself drifting off again, but he suddenly realized who the voice belonged to. He struggled to keep his eyes open. 

“Just returning the favor, ma’am,” he croaked, groggily. And then, because his head was swimming, “are you from the future too?”

**To be continued…**

 

 


	3. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think he’ll buy the usual cover story?”

Helen checked the young lieutenant’s vitals. He was going to be fine when he woke up, if a little sore. But his words had surprised her. Time travel was theoretically possible, of course, but it was highly improbable. Either it was the morphine talking, or he’d stumbled across something in the Abnormal underworld that he had no possible means of understanding.

She was still annoyed about his interference in her operation, and they would certainly be having words when he was feeling better. But she couldn’t deny that his assistance had been fortuitous. Though she didn’t know it at the time, her quarry had been armed with a deadly toxin she was ill-prepared to deal with. She’d found it in his jacket pocket when she’d searched his unconscious body. The young lieutenant’s meddling may have been rooted in a misplaced sense of chivalry, but she couldn’t deny that his actions had saved her life.

Of course, James’ part of the operation had gone off without a hitch, and he’d been insufferable once he’d ascertained that Helen was relatively unharmed. Earlier that afternoon, he’d strolled into her office to ask how “her dashing young lieutenant” was. _Cheeky bastard_.

As if summoned by her thoughts, James appeared in the infirmary. He gestured towards her patient, “Do you think he’ll buy the usual cover story?”

“Government business? I doubt it. One of those men picked me up with one hand.”

James nodded. “He was watching us at the bar, you know?”

Helen sighed. She’d thought he was just another traumatised young veteran, drowning his sorrows.

He asked if I was from the future.”

James quirked a brow. “Really? How fascinating.”

“ _James_ ,” Helen scolded, “he’s a young man, not a science project.”

James continued as though Helen hadn’t spoken. “He’s obviously trained for special operations, but he doesn’t have any of the right equipment with him. He’s on leave.”

That must have been why James had discounted his presence at the bar.

“He certainly picked up on our unease, or at least _something_ gave us away. Empathic abilities or raw talent?” he mused, to no one in particular.

“Either way,” Helen interrupted, “we’re going to have to tell him something. We don’t need the US military meddling in Sanctuary affairs.”

“Quite,” James agreed, “though given our young friend’s investigative abilities, he might be rather hard to convince.”

Helen frowned. How much easier things would be if the world knew about Abnormals. Despite all the technological and social advances that recent years had wrought, the world remained a dreadfully intolerant place. Some things were changing for the better, but as usually happened in these times of upheaval, the powerful remained set in their ways. The Sanctuary network had a lot of high-level allies in government and business, but there were some segments of society that they had yet to penetrate.

Perhaps they’d been short-sighted in their decision to cultivate civilian rather than military allies. The choice had been largely ideological – the weaponization of Abnormals was one of Helen’s greatest fears – but it was becoming increasingly apparent that they couldn’t remain under the radar for ever. Unless…

“What if we tell him the truth?”

“Really, Helen, you can’t be serious?”

“Completely,” Helen said. The more she thought about this, the more it seemed to be exactly the right solution. “We wouldn’t have to tell him everything, just enough to introduce him to the possibility of Abnormals.”

“To test the waters, so to speak?”

Helen nodded, “and if he takes it well, we'll tell him more.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

James nodded. “But you think he will.”

“I think he’s earned the chance to. We could certainly do with a few more allies.”

“And if this young man makes something of himself, we’ll have an ally in the military.” James shook his head and gave her a fond look, “You certainly know how to play the long game, my dear.” 

Helen smirked. “Yes, well, you’re not so bad at it yourself, Jimmy.”

She held out a hand. “Dinner?”

“Sounds wonderful. What, pray tell, has your man-servant whipped up today?”

Helen grinned, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

 

George opened his eyes as the sound of footsteps died away. He turned his head slowly from side to side, taking in his surroundings. There were no windows and there only seemed to be one exit. He had to be under ground. _What the heck had he gotten himself into?_ His muscles still felt weak, but there didn’t seem to be any security, and he might not get another chance. Slowly, he sat up, and carefully removed the IV from his arm. Then, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet landing softly on the tiled infirmary floor. Taking one last look around him, he made for the exit.

 

 


	4. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George tries to make his escape, but is waylaid by one of the Sanctuary’s residents.

When George reached what he thought was the exit, he found himself in a huge, cavern-like room with vaulted ceilings and a series of glass-fronted enclosures ringing the circular floor. _What the heck?_ The room directly to his right was a tank filled with dimly-lit water and seaweed. But no fish. It looked like a holding tank for a predator. _A very large predator_.

He started when there was a sudden movement within. Something long and thin darted past the front of the tank. George’s heart raced and he automatically reached for his weapon, which of course was back at the base. But instead of panic he was suddenly overcome with a feeling of ... calmness and... curiosity. _Don’t_ _be_ _afraid_. It was as though someone was ... speaking to him. A smiling woman floated out from behind a rock, her green hair fanning out around her. And she had... a tail. _A shimmering green-blue honest-to-God tail._

He let out a low breath, “Hello... er... Ma’am.”

_Hello, George._

He shook his head. _Wow, was she ... speaking? Or was that his own voice?_ He wasn’t quite sure.

“I’m not seeing things this time, am I?” He muttered to himself. In a way, though, he was relieved.

“No,” a voice behind him answered, “you’re not.”

George spun around, coming face to face with the woman from the bar. The doctor.

“Dr Helen Magnus,” she held out her right hand by way of introduction, “and, please, don’t be afraid of Sally,” she nodded towards the tank, lips suddenly quirking upwards in amusement, as though she was privy to some private joke, “she has rather a soft spot for human males.”

Stunned, George took her hand.

Dancing eyes met his, “You are human, aren’t you?”

The teasing lilt in her voice told him that she was joking, but he wasn't sure if the joke was at his expense.

“Uh...”

“Don't worry, Lieutenant, I’ve run all the tests and you’re completely Normal. Not that it would matter if you weren’t. Not here, anyway.”

When he looked at her blankly, she ploughed on, “Here at the Sanctuary we provide a safe haven for all beings, whatever their species. Many Abnormals choose to live here, but most live outside in the world, amongst their human neighbours.”

“The men from the bar – ” George began.

“Are traffickers and will be detained.”

“But are they...?”

“Abnormal? Yes.”

“Right.”  

But her answer hadn’t told him anything. _What in the heck were Abnormals?_

The doctor placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you come upstairs to my study?” she gestured towards a lift on the far side of the room. “We’ll have a cup of tea and I’ll tell you a little more about what we do here.”

George nodded, allowing himself to be shepherded over to the lift. Maybe he wasn’t leaving after all. Not yet, anyway. He wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. But just as he opened his mouth to make an objection, a feeling of reassurance washed over him. Then he felt a tugging sensation, as though someone was tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around to look at ... _Sally_ , who was still regarding him intently. He raised his hand in a wave. _See you later._

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Difficult patients

Stargate Command: 1997

 

Helen sighed as the screen on her laptop blinked out. The battery was dead and her charger was at the hotel. She lay back on the pillows of her uncomfortable infirmary bed. Hopefully she'd be out of here soon. She could do with a long hot shower and something other than the watery canteen soup she’d had for lunch. She hated any kind of forced inactivity, especially when she had so much work to do.

The curtains were drawn around a bed on the far side of the infirmary, but she could hear its occupant loud and clear.

“Ouch, Doc! Go easy with those needles, would ya?”

“You know, Colonel,” said the exasperated voice of Dr Fraiser, “This wouldn’t be necessary if you’d followed safety protocols.”

The man grumbled. Something about “damned alien baking”. Helen frowned. Perhaps she hadn’t heard correctly.

“I do believe that DoctorFraiser is right, O’Neill,” said a second voice. “If you had indeed followed her instructions this would not be required.”

_O’Neill? Surely this couldn’t be the Colonel O’Neill that Samantha talked about so often?_

The curtains opened and the man in question strode out. He was slightly older than she’d expected but still in good shape. She could certainly see the appeal. He was rugged in a devil-may-care sort of way, though he was a little too rough around the edges for her tastes. Accompanying him was a larger, muscular man with a gold tattoo on his forehead. Teal’c, she thought. She’d been hoping to speak with him about a practice she believed was called _kelno’reem_.

When O’Neill saw her, he stopped in his tracks. “Uh,” he scratched his head, frowning, “is it just me or do you look a lot like Carter? You're not another evil doppelgänger are you?”

Helen frowned, but before she could reply a harassed looking Dr Fraiser appeared, mouthing a silent apology. A few strands of hair had escaped from her bun and her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“Dr Helen Magnus,” she introduced, “meet Colonel O’Neill.”

“Magnus, huh? Are you at least related to Carter because you sure look like her?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Colonel O’Neill,” Helen responded drily.

Dr Frasier gestured towards the second man, “And this is Teal’c.”

“DoctorMagnus,” Teal’c bowed, “CaptainCarter speaks most highly of you.”

Helen smiled, “Thank you, Teal’c,” she inclined her head in imitation of his bow, “Samantha has also told me a great deal about you and your people’s rebellion. I would be honoured to speak with you during my visit.”

Teal’c inclined his head once more, “The honour would be mine.”

“Huh,” O'Neill said again, looking between the two of them. “Well, it was good to meet you, Doc. Come on T., let's get this debrief over with.”

Dr Fraiser shook her head as she watched them leave.

“Sorry about that, Dr Magnus,” her high heels clipped on the concrete floor as she made her way to Helen's bed to check her chart, “I’m not sure how Colonel O’Neill made the Air Force, let alone Colonel.”

"Please,” Helen smiled, “call me Helen.”

Janet looked up from the chart, eyes warm. “And you should call me Janet.”

“Janet,” Helen said, smiling again.

“Don’t wear it out,” Janet joked.

Helen found her attention captured by the younger woman. She had the most lovely dark brown eyes. There was an awkward pause as they regarded one another. Janet blushed and looked away first, noticing the laptop on the bedside cabinet and turning back to Helen with a raised eyebrow. _Caught red handed_. She flashed Janet her most disarming smile. But the younger woman just smirked, shaking her head.

“Oh, no, _Helen_. That might have worked on Nurse Jensen, but it won’t work on me.”

“Rats,” Helen shook her head ruefully, “Perhaps I could take you out to dinner tonight to make up for it?”

Janet’s eyes widened slightly. Helen held her breath. She hadn’t really meant to say that. Not that she’d ever been shy about expressing her feelings, but she was suddenly all too aware that she was on a military base.

“Janet – ”

“I’d love to.”

“Oh.” Helen felt her cheeks heat. She’d almost forgotten how thrilling it was to court the affections of a potential lover. Since she’d had Ashley, she’d had very little time for dalliances. But she’d missed this, and she felt a little out of practice. It had been a long time since she’d taken someone to her bed. But she was getting ahead of herself.

Janet was looking at her inquisitively, a small smile playing about her lips. “Shall we say 7.30? I know this great little place in town.”

Helen took a deep breath and smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

_After all, what harm could one dinner do?_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Upon a star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and a wish.

Janet sat out back on the decking, watching the stars and smoking a cigarette. She’d had the most incredible evening with Helen and was still feeling a little giddy. After dinner, they’d gone on to a wine bar, and when they’d parted ways to take taxis in opposite directions, Helen had pressed a soft, feather-light kiss to her lips.

Over dinner, they’d barely talked about work, but they’d covered the whole gamut of personal interests. Helen was passionate about science, French poetry, good food and wine, and basketball. Janet had been suprised by that last one, but apparently Helen’s daughter played for her school team and Helen had become “somewhat addicted” to the WNBA after taking her to see a couple of matches.

Janet had also found that she was unperturbed that Helen already had a child. Helen had shown her a picture of Ashley, grinning for her school photo. Janet had always wanted kids, but she’d never really found the right person or the right time. Life had always seemed to move so fast. Over dessert, she’d found herself wondering what it would be like to have a child with Helen (though  _that_ particular thought had been quickly quashed when she realised just how far ahead of herself she was getting).

Because, despite their easy conversation, Janet had an overwhelming sense that she’d barely scratched the surface where Helen herself was concerned, particularly when it came to just what exactly the enigmatic doctor did for a living. She’d also found out very little about Helen’s past, except that she was British, and no mention had been made of whether Ashley’s father was still in the picture. Of course, they’d talked about Sam, and Janet had joked that Helen didn’t seem old enough to be her aunt.

  
_"Oh, I'm far older that I look," Helen’s eyes twinkled. "And I'm actually more of a distant cousin. But I was very close to Samantha's mother, Debra, and after she died, Samantha used to spend her summers with me in Old City. Jacob was... well, I imagine you've met Jacob."_

_Janet frowned. "So you've lived in Old City for a while?"_

_"Oh, yes. For some time now. More wine?"_

  
Janet was used to half-truths, to little white lies whispered in a lover’s ear. Disclosure wasn’t something the Air Force agreed to easily. But Helen was obviously hiding something big, something even bigger than the Stargate program. Or at the very least, something that was as likely to cause as much political turmoil if it was exposed. Helen Magnus was probably a very dangerous woman to know. But Janet had enough life experience to know that she found that more than a little exciting. 

_  
“What about you, Janet? How long have you lived in Colorado?”_

_“Since the start of the program. It became pretty obvious early on that our away teams were going to get into trouble off-world. No matter how careful they were.”_

_Helen eyed her intently. “And before that?”_

_“Field hospitals in the Gulf.”_

_Helen’s lips twitched in disapproval._

_“I know you don’t approve - ”_

_Helen held up her hand, stopping Janet in her tracks._

_“It might surprise you to know that I’ve worked in more than a few field hospitals myself, in wars I didn’t agree with.”_

_“You’ve fought in wars?”_

_“I have. Quite some number, in fact. Does that surprise you?”_

_Janet shook her head, frowning. “I suppose not, but - ”_

_“Janet,” Helen stopped her again, this time taking her hand, “can we just enjoy this wonderful evening? It’s been a long time since I’ve courted someone so very lovely.”_

_Helen’s old-fashioned manners made Janet feel warm inside, but she couldn’t resist teasing, “Oh, you’re ‘courting’ me, are you?”_

_Helen’s answering smile was predatory, “I rather thought so.”_

_Janet shivered as a wave of desire coursed through her._

_“Well, Doctor Magnus,” her voice was bolder than she felt, “you should know that in these situations I often come out on top.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_Helen’s finger ghosted the rim of her wine glass, and Janet’s insides clenched in pleasant anticipation. Oh, she was so screwed. She knew in that moment that if Helen asked her to get down on her knees right there in the restaurant and feed her olives from those little cocktail sticks, she’d do it without hesitation._

 

Janet shook herself. She stubbed out her cigarette, pulling the blanket around her and taking one last look at the stars. _If she had a telescope big enough would she be able to see Sam up there on her science exchange with PX3 467?_ Her phone bleeped. A text message. From Helen.

_Janet, I had a truly wonderful evening. Sweet dreams. H x_

Janet let out a low laugh into the silent night, shaking her head. If someone had told her two days’ ago that she’d be getting flirty good night texts from Dr Helen Magnus, the mystery woman lying unconscious in her infirmary, she’d have laughed them out of town. And what Sam would make of their date when she got back, Janet had no idea. She did know one thing, though. More than ever before, she was sure that she wanted to see where this - whatever _this_ turned out to be - went.

So, as she stood up to go back inside, Janet Fraiser did something she hadn’t done since she was a child. She looked up at the stars and wished.

 


	7. In the room

Sam fidgeted in her seat as they waited for Hammond to arrive. _Oh boy_ , she thought to herself, _this is gonna be interesting_. The Colonel had been glaring at her ever since she’d arrived in the briefing room. Helen was making a point of ignoring his disapproving looks, and had engaged Teal’c in a polite conversation about something called _primtar_. Daniel seemed to be very interested in the contents of his coffee cup.

Helen’s presence at the meeting wasn’t unexpected. Not for Sam, anyway. She’d known for some time now that Helen knew about the Stargate programme. She’d even been grateful for it, when she’d needed some help with the Goa’uld hand device.

The Colonel, on the other hand, clearly wasn’t pleased he’d been kept out of the loop regarding Sam and Helen’s connection. It wasn’t like it was a secret or anything; Sam had talked about spending her summers with Helen as a teenager, she just hadn’t mentioned that it was the same Helen who helped her out occasionally with _Goa’uld_ technology. Sam had known that Helen knew the General, and she didn’t want O’Neill to think that her presence at the SGC was just a favor to her obviously well-connected ‘aunt’. It was bad enough being a General’s daughter. 

They’d come a long way since the incident with the Shavadai, and even further since Hathor’s attempted takeover of the SGC, but Sam still felt the need to prove herself sometimes. Then there was the fact that she felt bad about keeping information from a teammate. And it didn’t help that he was her superior officer, particularly when the importance of respecting authority had been drilled into her from a young age. Then on top of _that_ , there was the unfortunate, but undeniable fact that -

Sam felt herself blush as she automatically cut the thought off.

No one knew about her growing feelings for the Colonel, and no one could know. Well, almost no one. Helen had of course seen right through her when Sam had got back from her recon mission to PX2 661.

_  
“So you’ve met the rest of SG-1?” Sam asked._

_“Mmmm.” Helen’s eyes took on a mischievous glint, “Though I must say Colonel O’Neill wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.”_

_“He’s a good commanding officer,” Sam countered. “He’s just… he just… takes a bit of getting used to.”_

_Helen looked at her pointedly. “Well, he’s certainly rather easy on the eye.”_

 

Sam had cringed at that. Helen always knew when she was dating someone, and she usually plied all the details out of her over a glass of wine. Sam would probably die of embarrassment if her dad ever tried to talk to her about any of her dates, but Helen provided the kind of motherly sounding board that Sam had lost when her Mom died. The only drawback was that it meant the older woman knew all her tells.

“Good morning, Dr Magnus, SG-1,” Hammond strode into the briefing room.

Helen, Daniel and Teal’c remained seated, but Sam and the Colonel stood to attention. It was weird doing that in front of Helen, especially when Sam knew she had little patience for military protocol. She’d worked for the British government during the Second World War, but as far as Sam understood it, she’d been a more-or-less free agent, answering directly to Churchill.

“Alright people,” Hammond nodded, taking his chair, “take a seat.”

“I’m sure you’ve all met Dr Magnus by now.”

The Colonel mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that Colonel?”

O’Neill waved his hand, dismissively, “Oh, nothing, Sir.”

Hammond gave him a long hard stare. Sam swallowed awkwardly. Helen calmly took a sip from the special mug of tea Walter had brought for her.

“Captain Carter,” the General continued after an uncomfortable moment, “What are the current conditions on PX3 711?”

“Well, Sir,” Sam launched into her explanation, pleased they were on safer ground, “according to the latest MALP readings, there’s a cold weather front coming in around 72 hours from now. I’d suggest gating out within the next 24, in order to avoid any severe changes in climate. Our cold weather gear will protect us in sub zero conditions, but we don’t want to risk being trapped on the planet in those temperatures.”

Hammond nodded. They’d all been briefed privately yesterday on the real reason for Helen’s presence on the base. But in public, even at this ‘official’ mission briefing, they were to stick to the cover story: PX3 711 was home to a rare antibiotic plant that would be very useful in fighting some of the pathogens they’d recently come across off-world. As an expert on Abnormal life, Helen’s knowledge would be invaluable. Sam hadn’t been apprised of the reason for all this extra security, but she suspected it had something to do with the NID. 

The clip of high heels announced Janet’s arrival.

“Sorry I’m late, Sir. I was re-running those tests you asked for.”

She looked over at Helen, and smiled, “Dr Magnus.”

“Good morning, Dr Fraiser.”

Sam looked between the two woman. _She could have sworn that Helen had just checked her best friend out_. But if she had, she was now studying Sam’s briefing notes, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Janet handed the General a manila folder before taking a seat next to Sam. Sam turned to look at her quizzically, but when Janet mouthed an innocent _what?_ Sam shook her head. 

Hammond glanced at the file before nodding at Janet, “Excellent work, Dr Frasier.”

“Thank you, Sir. But I did have help.”

She glanced over at Helen. _There was that look again!_

 _Oh, boy._ Sam was definitely keeping well out of this one. She wondered just how much Janet knew about her ‘aunt’. By now she would know that Helen’s work involved Abnormals, but beyond that? Being 147 years’ old probably wasn’t something she brought up on first dates.

“Based on these results,” Hammond continued, “you have a go, SG-1. Dr Fraiser and Dr Magnus will accompany you to collect the samples. I want everyone ready to ship out at 1000 hours. Any questions?”

At the chorus of ‘no, Sirs’ and head shakes, Hammond nodded. “Alright then, dismissed.”

Sam turned to speak to Janet, but her friend was already making a beeline for Helen.

“Dr Magnus,” Janet was saying, “I’ll take you through the safety protocols for our off-world medical teams.”

“Thank you, Dr.” Helen favored her with a wide smile, “I find myself rather looking forward to visiting another planet.”

“CaptainCarter,” Teal’c interrupted her eavesdropping, “Do you need any help securing the equipment?”

“Thanks, Teal’c,” she said, dragging her attention away from the scene unfolding in front of her, “it’s in my lab. We just have to do a quick inventory.”

Teal’c inclined his head. “As you say, Captain.”

 

 

**To be continued…**

 

 

 

 


	8. Expect the unexpected

Helen was a little unsteady on her feet as she stepped out of the wormhole and onto the planet. She’d been warned about the nausea, so that wasn’t a surprise, but she’d underestimated just how violent it would be. Janet placed a steadying hand on her arm, “Alright?”

Helen nodded. But when she looked up, she saw a vast plane of shimmering blue water stretched out before them, lapping up against the edge of the platform on which they stood. _Something was wrong_. The sun was high in the almost painfully blue sky, and some of Samantha’s team mates had already unbuttoned their large arctic jackets. Sam took a small test tube out of her rucksack and knelt on the platform’s edge, carefully taking a small sample of the clear blue water.

Helen looked quizzically at Janet, “Are we on the wrong planet?”

“A misfire?” It was Samantha who spoke. She squinted as she held the test tube up to the light. “We know it’s a possibility. Not in this case, though. Either the MALP provided us with faulty data...”

“Or the planet’s changed,” Janet mused.

Helen frowned, “But I thought the data confirmed the planet was experiencing an ice age?”

When Samantha nodded her agreement, Helen continued, “Surely those circumstances couldn’t be altered in the course of a few hours?”

A small smile played about her niece’s lips. “Wasn’t it you who once told me to expect the unexpected?”

“Yes, but —”

“Extinction-level weather events don’t change over night,” Sam nodded, “which makes me think that —”

“It’s an illusion,” Helen finished.

Sam nodded again. 

“Shouldn’t we be cold?” Doctor Jackson piped up, “If this is an illusion, I mean?”

Sam frowned, raising a hand to her cheek. “Zip up your jackets, everyone.”

As the team busied themselves wrapping up again, Helen walked to the edge of the platform and peered into the inviting blue water. Taking off a glove, she bent down and trailed her hand in the cool blue liquid. It felt exactly like the ocean, and she was suddenly overcome with memories of sandy beaches and the warm Mediterranean Sea. Yet the ‘water’, she reminded herself, was nothing more than thin air. “Absolutely remarkable,” she murmured. Standing, she put her glove back on her now-rather-cold hand, and turned to the others. “It’s a defence mechanism.”

Sam looked startled. “You’re saying that this planet has some sort of consciousness?”

Helen tilted her head, considering. “Perhaps not a consciousness, exactly. More like instinct.”

Sam looked dubious, but Janet was deep in thought. “That makes sense,” she agreed. “Some earth-based flora have built-in mechanisms that might be mistaken for consciousness, if we didn’t already know what caused them. The Venus fly trap, for example.”

“ _Dionaea muscipula_ ,” Helen smiled brightly at Janet. 

Daniel groaned, “Let’s just hope this planet isn’t carnivorous.”

“Indeed, DanielJackson.”

“Well, we certainly seem to have set off the trigger,” Janet remarked

Helen frowned, “Yes, but while the Venus fly trap is motivated, if you will, by the need for food, this planet seems to be trying to shield its true nature.”

“Like a chameleon,” the young archaeologist supplied.

“Exactly, Dr Jackson. But I’m afraid this presents us with a rather large problem. If this defence mechanism is intended to prevent other species from settling here, then perhaps the ecosystem won’t be capable of supporting additional life forms.”

Colonel O’Neill - who had been uncharacteristically silent up to this point - sent an exagerrated look towards the crates they’d brought through the wormhole. Then he looked at Helen. “Did we set off the trigger, or was it those critters?”

Helen looked intently at the man who seemed to have stolen Samantha’s heart. Perhaps she’d underestimated him, after all. “I didn’t know you were a botanist, Colonel?”

O’Neill shrugged, “I read the National Geographic.”

“Jack?” Daniel looked curious.

The Colonel shrugged again, “Something to do with hairs,” he waved his hand dismissively, “The Doc can explain better than I can.”

Helen wasn’t fooled by his pretended ignorance, but she ploughed ahead anyway. “ _Dionaea muscipula_ \- the Venus fly trap - is selective.” At Daniel’s frown, she continued, “The trap’s snapping mechanism is triggered by tiny hairs on its inner surface. But it only snaps shut if contact is made with the hairs a second time, within less than about twenty seconds of the first.”

“To catch larger prey,” Janet nodded her understanding.

“Precisely,” Helen smiled, “Small prey such as flying insects provide far less nutrition than more robust, crawling arthropods - beetles and the like. It would be a waste of energy to consume and digest anything smaller.”

Daniel looked impressed.

“Pretty neat, huh?” The Colonel nudged him with his elbow. 

Helen gestured towards the large crates that they had brought through the stargate. “Unlike its European counterpart, the arctic peripex doesn’t require a great deal of sustenance. It survives mainly by ingesting a type of ice algae prevalent on this planet. It’s the reason why Dr Fraiser and I chose it for their relocation.” Helen paused, “Perhaps Colonel O’Neill’s right, and it’s us who set off the trigger.”

“So what do you suggest?” Daniel asked.

It was Samantha who spoke first. “We could go back to the SGC and leave the peripexes here. See what happens. The MALP didn’t trigger the planet’s defence mechanism when we did our initial recon, so it should be fine to leave it here to monitor the situation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” O’Neill nodded. “Dr Magnus?”

Helen was pleasantly surprised that the previously gruff Colonel would give her a say in the matter. She nodded her agreement, “That should be fine, Colonel.”

“Right then, kids,” O’Neill clapped his hands, “Dial her up, Carter.”

 

To Helen’s relief, the plan worked. When Samantha sent the MALP back through to the planet, it looked exactly as it had before their arrival. Helen and Janet went back through the gate - ostensibly to collect the ‘scientific equipment’ they’d left behind as ‘a control’ - and released the peripexes. The little mammals scurried off happily to explore their new habitat, and the planet was marked off-limits on the control computer. All in all, Helen thought, it was a job well done.

“You seem pretty unfazed by interplanetary travel,” Janet remarked later, as she drove them both to meet the rest of the team for a celebratory beer in the local bar, “almost as though you’ve done it before.”

Helen smiled, “I’ve seen many remarkable things in my lifetime.”

Janet slammed the breaks on, and pulled in to the side of the road.

“Are you ever going to tell me what your story is?” She didn’t look angry, but she did look a little exasperated. 

Helen sighed. This was what it always came down to in the end. “My work with Abnormals,” she began carefully, “has afforded me certain benefits.”

“What kind of benefits?” Janet’s eyes were curious.

“Janet, I —”

But Janet had already started up the engine again. “It’s alright,” she said, focussing deliberately on the road ahead. “You don’t need to tell me now.” But she sounded disappointed.  

“It’s not something I discuss with many people. Just... I need some time.”

Janet was silent for a moment. “I know what it’s like, you know, having a secret,” she glanced across at Helen. “Just don’t wait too long to tell me?”

Helen sighed and looked out of the window. How much easier things would be if she were simply normal. Realistically, though, she knew she wouldn’t want that either. She liked her life, even if it was a little unconventional. But she missed the kind of companionship that came with a relationship. She missed love. 

Just then, Janet’s hand slipped into hers, reassuring. Perhaps this would work itself out. Perhaps she would find the right way to tell this woman that she was immortal, that she didn’t age, _wouldn’t_ age. Only time would tell, and that was something she certainly had a lot of. Others didn’t, though - _Janet_ didn’t - and Helen wondered if she would ever, truly, be able to love someone again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Decisions

If Janet was being totally honest, she was more than a little disappointed that Helen had left O’Malley’s early (left O’Malley’s early, _without her_ ). She’d said she was tired when she’d come up to the bar to say goodbye, a quick kiss on cheek and a squeeze to the hand the only signs of their previous intimacy.

“You alright?” Sam asked when she came to help her carry their drinks to the table.

When Janet nodded, Sam raised a sceptical eyebrow, and the gesture reminded her so much of Helen that she thought she might cry.

Sam’s blue eyes radiated concern. “Come on.” Her friend gently took her elbow and guided her toward the fire exit. The smokers and college kids usually hung out there, but she and Sam sometimes joined them when they wanted a bit of time away from the guys.

“Jan, you can talk to me about this you know.”

Sam looked so sincere, and Janet let out a long sigh.

Sam tried again, “I know it’s about Helen.” 

_What?_  

“You do?”

Sam flashed her a small grin. “Well, it’s pretty obvious to me, but I don’t think anyone else has noticed.”

“Oh, _God_ ,” Janet rested her forehead on her hands. 

“Hey,” Sam coaxed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “it’s alright. Helen’s... not always the easiest person to figure out.”

“You can say that again.”

Janet looked over at her friend, “I don’t understand why she won’t talk to me.”

_Come on, Sam. Tell me, please._

For the first time, Sam looked uneasy. “Oh, Jan,” she sighed, “it’s not my secret to tell.”

Sam gave her a small smile, “But I _can_ tell she likes you,” — her smile turned into a slight grimace — “which, admittedly, is little weird for me,” — she waved her hand in an offhanded gesture — “but I love you both, so I’ll get over it.”

_How much wine had they had?_ Sam’s tone turned teasing, “Just don’t expect me to call you Aunt Janet.”

Sam’s easy banter had lightened the mood considerably. _God, she was lucky to have her as a friend._ Janet blushed slightly, even as her heart swelled to know that she hadn’t somehow imagined the smouldering looks Helen had been giving her all day.

“Seriously, though,” Sam went on, “I think you should talk to her. Helen’s not always... great at talking. You should have seen us when I was a moody teenager. It was kinda awkward, sometimes.”

“When you stayed with her?”

Sam nodded.

“At the Sanctuary?”

Sam nodded again.

“But — ”

Sam held up a hand — _God she and Helen were so alike_ — “Talk to her, Jan. Seriously.”

“I tried, but — ”

“Try again. Helen can be pretty stubborn sometimes.” Sam frowned, “Uh, maybe don’t tell her I said that?”

“Sam, are you drunk?”

“Ummm,” Sam’s expression said it all, “probably? But my advice still stands. I think I’m better at giving advice when I’m tipsy, actually.”

_Oh, boy. What time was their briefing tomorrow, again?_

 

  

Janet groaned as the doorbell rang, pulling the covers back up over her head. _Who on earth would visit at — she looked over at her clock radio — 7am?_ Granted, they had a briefing at 0800 hours, but she and Sam had come back to her place and had stayed up until the small hours, polishing off one final bottle of wine. That had definitely been a mistake, if the raging headache she could feel coming on was any indication.

She hauled herself out of bed and threw on a dressing gown, since she hadn’t bothered to put on any pajamas last night. _This morning_ , she corrected herself with a shake of the head as she made her way to the front door. The doorbell rang again.

“Coming!” _Honestly, she hauled the door open, who in their right mind would —_

“Helen,” Janet’s eyes widened. _Oh, God, she probably had make up all over her face._

But Helen didn’t look the least bit perturbed. Instead, she bit her lip as she took in Janet in her skimpy black silk dressing gown. Janet felt herself blush. When Helen dragged her eyes up to look at her, her smile was slightly sheepish. “I’m sorry, I’ve come at a bad time.”

Janet shook her head, smiling ruefully, despite herself. “Just a late night, that’s all.”

“Mmmm,” Helen said, “I had hoped we might talk? Inside, perhaps?”

“Oh, right. Sorry!” Janet stepped back to let Helen into the hallway, “I don’t think I’m totally awake yet.”

Helen chuckled. Her laugh had the same rich timbre Janet remembered from their date.

“Coffee?”

Helen’s eyes flickered for a moment in what might have been exasperation, before she said. “Yes. Please.”

Janet fumbled with the coffee maker. “Here,” Helen said, “Let me help,” she flashed Janet a small smile, and gestured for her to sit at the breakfast bar.

“Thanks,” Janet felt her lips tug upwards, despite her sore head. As she perched on one of the high stools, a glass of water and a couple of tylenol were placed in front of her.

“Thanks, Helen, I — ”

But a groan from the kitchen door interrupted her. Sam stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“God, I feel like crap,” the tall sleep-rumpled woman murmured, “That last bottle of wine was probably a bad — _Helen?_ ”

“Hello, Samantha.”

Sam looked between the two women. “Uh,” she said, “gesturing back at the couch, I’ll just...”

“It’s alright, Sam,” Janet waved her in, “come on in.” She cast a sly look at Helen, “Helen’s just making the coffee.”

Helen raised her eyebrows slightly, and Sam looked a little surprised, but she shrugged and took a seat next to Janet.

“Uh,” she said, looking a little awkward, “I actually have to get to the base before the briefing. Print some, uh... documents... I’ll just, uh... grab a coffee and go.”

“Sam,” Janet reminded her, “you left your car at O’Malley’s”

“Right,” Sam said, groaning as she placed her head in her hands. “Why did we drink that last bottle of wine, again?”

Janet patted her shoulder sympathetically. She was glad they’d talked. They’d both had things they needed to get off their chest. This thing with O’Neill was really eating her friend up.

Helen placed two cups of coffee in front of them. “Perhaps,” she said, pointedly, but not unkindly, “I should drive you both?”

Sam took a sip of her coffee and sighed as the caffeine did its work. “Actually,” she said, “if you don’t mind, Jan, I could take your car. Helen could drive you?” 

Sam looked at Helen, and Helen smiled softly back at her. 

“Janet?” Helen asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her otherwise confident demeanour. 

“That’s good by me.” 

“Great,” Sam stood, picking up her mug. “I’ll just get dressed and be on my way. No need to see me out.” She patted Janet’s hand, and gave Helen a pointed look, before heading back to the lounge.

There was an awkward silence. “Join me?” Janet gestured at the seat across from her and Helen nodded, her own cup cradled between her fingers. 

“Janet,” she said, “I’m sorry I’ve been less than forthcoming. But my life is complicated and —”

Janet huffed, and Helen looked at her quizzically.

“And you don’t think mine is?” she countered. “Helen, my job involves travel to other planets, alien viruses, Christ, one of my colleagues is an alien!”

Helen looked startled for a moment, before she went on, “I understand that, but surely you understand the need for secrecy?”

Janet sighed. This old nugget again. “Of course I do,” she took a deep breath, the conclusion that she’d formed in her own mind finally making its way to her lips, “but this secret isn’t about your work is it? It’s about you.”

She’d expected anger, but instead she was met with resignation.

“It is, yes.”

Janet reached forward to take her hand, “Then what is, Helen. Is it really so bad that you can’t tell me?”

Helen studied her for a moment, before letting out a long sigh.

“Before I tell you,” she said, “know that this is not something I reveal lightly. In fact, very few people know of this, even those with whom I have been intimate.”

Janet squeezed her hand, nodding. “You can trust me, Helen.”

Helen smiled sadly. “I feel that I can too. And that’s the problem.”

Janet frowned, and Helen shook her head. 

“If I tell you this,” she went on “you can’t unhear it, and I’m afraid, well, I’m afraid... it’s asking a lot of you, and it’s asking a lot of me. I’ve had my heart broken too many times now, and I’m not sure I can take it again.”

“ _Helen_ ,” Janet murmured softly, trying to convey just how much she cared about this woman she had known for so short a time, “you can tell me.”

Helen took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked into Janet’s eyes, “I am one hundred and forty seven years’ old.”

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had all the time in the world but still it was never enough.

_**Previously on When Helen met Janet...** _

_Helen took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked into Janet’s eyes, “I am one hundred and forty seven years’ old.”_

 

 

“Oh,” Janet said, eyes widening, “Are you...?” she gestured up towards the sky.

Helen had to work hard to bite back a relieved laugh, despite the gravity of the situation. She bit her lip. There was no disbelief in Janet’s deep brown eyes, just sincere curiosity. 

Helen couldn’t help teasing, “Are you asking if I’m an alien, Doctor?”

Hurt flashed across Janet’s features, “Is this a joke?”

 _Damn it_. Helen silently cursed her own tendency to prevaricate with humour. 

“Janet,” she said, taking back the hand that had so abruptly pulled away, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

The other woman looked unimpressed. 

“Let me start again?” Helen asked, squeezing Janet’s hand. Janet nodded, giving her a tight smile. 

Helen took a breath. _Dear Lord, this was complicated._

“I was born in 1850, but I was born human,” she looked up to see Janet watching her closely. “My father was one of the great scientists of the day...”

 

 

Helen gave Janet the short version, but by the time she’d finished the other woman’s eyes were shining with tears. “Helen,” she said, thumb softly stroking her hand, “I won’t pretend I even begin to understand what you’ve been through, but for what it’s worth... I still think you’re wonderful.”

Helen felt a tear slip down her own cheek, and she hastily swiped it away. “I think you’re rather wonderful too which is why I can’t —”

Janet shook her head, “Why did you tell me all this then?”

Helen blinked, and swiped at another traitorous tear. 

“Helen,” Janet persisted, softly, “let’s see where this goes. I don’t see you any differently.”

“You might,” Helen whispered, and she could hear the bitterness in her own voice. 

“I might,” Janet allowed, “but you might see me differently too.”

That was the crux of it, of course. Helen knew how much she’d notice the changes, knew how keenly she’d feel each of those aches and pains and yet still be numb. Janet’s voice turned teasing. “Besides, are you saying you could give up sex for the rest of your life, however long that may be?”

Helen let out a huff of irritation. “No, sex is different. But I rarely let anyone get... close.”

“Ashley’s father?”

Helen nodded. “John was a very dangerous man, but I loved him. Even after all the terrible things he did.”

Helen glanced at the clock on the microwave. _7.35_. She had all the time in the world but still it was never enough. 

Janet saw her looking and heaved a sigh. “I know, I know, we need to get moving. God, I hate mornings,” she looked sheepishly down at her attire. Helen thought she looked gorgeous. “Just give me five minutes to take a quick shower?”

Helen nodded, but Janet didn’t make a move to get up. Helen raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Promise me we’ll talk about this later?” 

Helen swallowed. “Yes.”

Janet gave her a small smile. “Thank you.” Still, she didn’t move. She sighed, wistfully. “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”

“Oh?” Despite herself, Helen blushed. “Then why don’t you?”

Janet looked embarrassed, then, glancing away. “I think I should really brush my teeth.”

Helen laughed, deep and genuine. “Later, then.”

Janet’s cheeks were still flushed, but she grinned back at her mischievously. “Is _that_ a promise?”

Helen bit her lip. “Oh, definitely.”

“Right,” Janet stood with a longing look, letting go of Helen’s hand, “I’ll just go... get ready.”

“Mmm,” Helen said in a tone that must have conveyed just how much she did not want to work today. 

As Janet turned to go, Helen couldn’t help but admire the way her robe showed off those gorgeous curves. _Dear, God, the woman was beautiful, even bed-rumpled and underslept. Especially then, perhaps._ Helen felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t been the cause of Janet’s dischevelled appearance. When Janet had opened the door this morning, in that tantalising piece of silk, Helen had had a hard time focusing. They would be good together, she was sure of it. _Damn her accursed longevity..._

 

 

The drive to the base was uneventful, save for the fact that something of an understanding seemed to have been reached between them. Janet appeared to be content to look out the window, occasionally commenting on some news item or other on the local radio. It was peaceful, and so very normal that Helen’s heart ached. 

As they got out the car, Dr Jackson was locking his own vehicle, and looking a little worse for wear. Clearly, Janet and Samantha weren’t the only ones who’d had a late night. 

Helen didn’t miss the flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he bid them good morning, but there was no malice there. Helen couldn’t care less what other people thought about her relationships, but she wasn’t so naive as to think that she and Janet wouldn’t have to tread carefully, with the Air Force, at least. That was something they would deal with later, if the need arose.

For now, though, they would just have to wait and see what the day brought.

 

 

 


End file.
